Turning the tables
by Cepticon
Summary: After a prank gone wrong, the twins discover that that Ratchet is ill. Being grateful for the constant watchful optic the CMO has on them, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker decide to return the favor. Terror-twin-style.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers etc... _

_For a better understanding: port= valve, connector=spike._

_Joor= 6 hours, cycle= day, decacycle= week, vorn= 83 years _

* * *

><p>"This prank is going to be awesome!"<p>

Sideswipe giggled, rolling around on his berth in laughter.

"Ratchet won't know what hit him."

Sunstreaker agreed, not looking to his twin, being too busy with polishing his gorgeous frame to it's usual brilliant shine. And coating it with some protective layer of twin-developed paint and glue repelling wax.

The cycles have been quiet in the Ark lately. About a decacycle ago the Decepticons had attacked a power plant near a human city. It had been a fierce battle with lots of injuries suffered on both sides, but the greatest hit had been taken by Megatron. The Leader of the Cons had made the mistake to stand too close to the energon cube stack his men had collected, when Ironhide shot at them. The explosion was strong enough to scorch the tyrant's frame so badly he nearly offlined. So for the time the grey Decepticon needed to recover, the Autobots had some peace and quiet.

And everyone knew that the twins couldn't stand peace and quiet for a long time. After all, they weren't called the '_terror twins_' for nothing.

"But you know, that we'll probably be stuck in the brig for a vorn after this."

The yellow Lamborhini put away his polishing cloth, turning to look at his brother, expecting an answer.

"It'll be worth it."

Sideswipe stood up from his berth in one fluent swing

"The others are totally relaxed and careless right now. Sneaking up on them will be easy. Imagine their looks, when everyone wakes up with pink glittery painting!"

He curled his arms around his brother's waist, grinning like an idiot.

Sunstreaker put his hand on the red frontliner's face and shoved him away.

"It will look horrible. But I like the effects the paint has. Paint with glue that seeps into the frame through the seams, locking the joints in place, brilliant. It'll give the med. bot something to do. He must be bored out of his processor by now with no injured mechs to tend to."

The former pit-fighter smiled one of his rare, dashing smiles.

The red Lamborghini thought about pulling pranks with his brother more often, seeing his reaction, he looked so good when he smiled. Scary as the pit, but oh so good.

"Ok, let's get to work before everyone wakes up for their shifts. Do you have the scrambler for the cameras?"

Sunstreaker held up a small chip in response.

"Good, you'll slip it into the consol, I'll grab the paint and start working. We'll meet at Prime's quarters. Ready?"

Sideswipes grin spread eerily over his handsome faceplates, crying mischief.

His twin let his powerful engine rev, getting ready for one of their biggest pranks so far, they would spare no one.

"GO!"

-x-

The twins sat at a table in the rec. room, sipping their morning energon, when they heared the voice of the SIC thundering though the open comm. link frequence.

/**Sideswipe! Sunstreaker!**/

It was hard for the Lamborghinis to suppress their giggles, when they answered a feigned innocent '_yes_' in unison.

/This time you've gone too far!/

/We just thought you could use a little joke to loosen up your tight aftplates a little./

The red menace cooed through the link, before shutting it.

Roaring with laughter they both stood up and went to the brig, knowing they would end up there anyway. They settled on the berths in the cells that could as well have their designations carved into them and waited for Prowl to come shout their punishment at them. After almost a joor, when the sun was already standing high, Optimus Prime came instead, looking less then pleased.

Sunstreaker looked at him, his usual scowl back on his beautiful face, while Sideswipe gave his freshly cleaned superior a mock salute.

"Hi there Prime! Enjoyed the joke?"

He chipped, his wide grin fading after a moment, when he saw the Prime's stern expression harden.

"No."

He spoke calmly, his gaze shifting between the two terrors.

"Immobilizing the entire crew is no joke. It could have endangered us all in case of a Decepticon attack."

Sunstreaker rolled his optics.

"Megatron's still mending, it's not like they're going to attack anytime soon."

Optimus leveled the golden mech with a hard stare.

"_And_ there is something I want you to see. Come with me."

The frontliners looked at each other, confused, but stood up and followed their leader to the med. bay. When the door opened it revealed several mechs, including Hound, Blaster, Bluestreak and Prowl on the berths and a very slagged off Ratchet, cursing colorfully as he tended to his patients.

Optimus held both twins by their shoulders still speaking to them in a calm, but unusually stern tone.

"A few of our mechs had an allergic reaction to the paint you used. According to Ratchet their frames are overheating, and slowing their processors down considerably."

Sunstreaker just stood there, scowling impassively but Sideswipe could feel a pang of what could be considered guilt through their bond. He himself felt miserable. With apologizing optics he looked up to the Prime.

"We're sorry Optimus. This wasn't supposed to happen. We'll serve whatever time in the brig, you think we deserve."

He spoke, letting his head hang down in shame.

"You will not be spending time in the brig this time. Ratchet has requested to be the one to bestow punishment on you."

-x-

The twins had spent two cycles, helping Ratchet repair the damage they had caused, handing him tools and documenting everything on datapads. During their punishment they had learned, that the medic's job was far more exhausting than what they had always thought and that working with the Hatchet was a lot worse than cleaning detail or brig time, with a lot more boring work and wrenches to the helm.

By the time the evening of the second cycle began, the last two patients had been cleared for duty again. Ratchet sent off Bluestreak, who had slipped into stasis several times during his repair, huffed angrily and turned around to the Lamborghinis standing behind him, glaring them down.

Sideswipe opened his mouth to apologize for the fifth time that cycle, but the medics gruff voice cut him off.

"I hope you have learned something from this, because if I catch you fraggers giving me so much work again, may Primus help you."

Sunstreaker took a step forward, his frown still on his handsome face, while his optics radiated guilt and slight annoyance.

"Listen, Ratchet, we're sorry. We didn't intent this to happen, we just wanted a laugh and the crew to loosen up a bit."

The medic snorted and waved his wrench in an angry fashion.

"Well it seems the only things you've loosened are the rest of the few tight screws that your processors had left!"

"Hey, no need to insult us. We're really sorry."

Sideswipe whined, stepping towards the raging doctor, putting his hand on the white chestplates.

Ratchet batted the hand away and staggered, gripping the edge of a nearby berth to support himself. Only then did the frontliners notice how the medic's cooling fans whirred madly.

The red Lamborhini looked shocked.

"You're burning up. ... But how?! We didn't paint _you_."

Ratchet looked like he wanted to throttle them.

"No, but I came in touch with the slag, when I was doing my job and treat the mechs you nearly offlined."

Sunstreaker crossed his arms and strut over to the angry mech.

"Come on, we already said we were sorry. _Several times_."

He ground out, fed up from all the strange guilt he was feeling. Pit, he usually terminated mechs without a second thought.

"Shut your slagging vocalizer you pit-spawned menace!"

The CMO barked, whacking the yellow frontliner on the helm with his favorite tool.

Sighing heavily the golden mech suppressed his need to strike back and looked around the med. bay.

"Do you have some of the antidote left?"

Ratched mirrored the sigh and deflated, exhaustion driving away his previous anger.

"I have already taken it, but it can only work on a relaxed system. And I don't have the time to put myself into stasis."

"How about some recharge?"

Sideswipe offered with a shrug.

"Do you _really_ think I could initiate recharge with all the stress you two terrors put me through?"

The medic retaliated with a flat stare.

The red Lamborghini sent a wave of emotions and ideas through the twin bond, making the artist on the receiving end shudder. A grin set on his faceplate.

"And what if we help you?"

He said, looking at his brother, filling the bond with pure lust.

"Yes, you always look after us, care for us and make sure that we're at top functionality."

"You're always there for us."

"Time we return the favor."

The twins neared their prey with predatory smiles. Ratchet threateningly waved his wrench and tried to back away, but the berth he supported himself on blocked his escape route.

"Whatever you two are trying to pull now, **desist**. I've had enough trouble already."

Sideswipe feigned a hurt expression.

"Ouch, Ratch', we're just trying to help."

And with the speed their alt. modes were rumored for, Sunstreaker launched himself at the medic, wrestling him on the berth, pulling the wrench out of his grip, effectively disarming the mech.

Ratchet watched with unease as the red menace dragged a second berth across the room, putting it next to the one he was currently pinned on. If he didn't know better, the doctor would blame the heat, that crept into his frame on the glitch he had caught, but the heat stemmed from the wrong place. It got worse, when a second frame was pressed to his own.

Collecting his resolve the Hatchet pushed at the stunning mechs, that loomed over him, trying to get away from them.

"Get off me, or you will regret it!"

Sideswipe cuddled close to the overheating frame.

"Don't fight us, you know you want it."

he whispered into the medic's audio receptors, placing a kiss on them.

Ratchet blushed and turned his head away.

"No. I _don't_."

When Sunstreaker boldly slipped a hand between his thighs and started to caress agonizingly sweet circles across them, he couldn't suppress a moan.

"You sure?"

The beautiful artist asked, his haughty, deep voice a lustful whisper.

"I'm your superior, you know?"

The medic tried when nothing else seemed to help him in this situation.

Sideswipe answered by nipping at his prey's neck cables, while his twin moved his caress up to the interface panel. Said panel snapped open with a satisfying click not a moment later.

"Frag"

The CMO moaned, losing control under the sweet, foreign touch to his neglected frame.

"As you command."

The twins spoke in unison, mischievous smiles gracing their handsome faceplates. The carmine split-spark let his fingers wander to the Hatchet's interface panel, while the golden one moved his away and set to stimulate all the wonderfully sensitive spots on his upper chassis.

When Sideswipe lightly caressed the twitching port of the older mech, Sunstreaker leaned in to kiss him, effectively muffling his moans and weak protests; and while the first gently inserted a finger in the tight heat, the latter coaxed out the connector of their prey.

"You first, or me?"

The red Lamborghini asked and took turn in kissing Ratchet to mute him, when his brother sat up to answer.

"Both at the same time? I'll take his port."

The medic's optics widened and he reset his audio receptors upon hearing the conversation between the two fiends currently molesting his frame. Despite all of his mental struggles, he couldn't deny that he was _thrilled_ about the thought. His overheating frame overruled the protests of his processor and he gave in to his tormentors, his _saviors_, these curses, those _blessings_. Primus, his frame was so stimulated he couldn't think a single straight thought anymore.

When he was distracted from his dizzy cogitations by a burning hot, magnificent feeling stemming from both parts of his interface equipment simultaneously he lost the last of resistance. A loud moan escaped his vocalizer and many followed as he felt his port being filled and his connector being housed in tandem over and over again, while he was kissed and caressed all over his vibrating plating.

For a moment the ministrations stopped, and Ratchet looked up to see the split-sparks remove themselves from him. His systems mourning the loss.

"Switch?"

Sideswipe asked his brother with pleading optics, knowing that the artist liked filling more, than letting himself be filled, but he wanted his share of the doctor's port, too.

"Fine."

Sunstreaker relented, his system filled with too much charge to be appalled by the thought of putting his port into rare use.

With a fluent, elegant motion both frontliners switched their places and began to indulge their medic again.

Not having the strength or will to resist, Ratchet let himself flop down onto the wide berth, that consisted of two. Just like the source of the sweet pleasure he so seldom felt. As the twins moved rhythmically the charge in the med. bot's frame rose to an unbearable level. "S-Stop... I'm.."

He moaned, but was greeted with scarily peaceful smiles.

"It's ok."

"Just let it happen."

And with that he lost control, screaming and cursing in utter bliss as overload hit him like the unmaker. His optics offlined and he slipped into deep recharge, a rare, content smile gracing his faceplates.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker let go of their captive and finished each other, before lying next to the still frame, curling up on each side, setting to a satisfied recharge.

-x-

Ratchet awoke slowly, when he heard a knock on the door. He felt a lot better and more relaxed that he had felt in a very long time. Contentedness spread all over his systems, making him sigh and stretch in a lazy fashion, and he wondered what made him feel so good, before noticing the weight on both of his sides. With a strange premonition he onlined his optics and saw two beautiful Lamborghinis curled into his frame.

The carmine one yawned, while the golden one elegantly stretched, before both slowly opened their optics and looked to the door.

"Mornin' Prowl"

Sideswipe slurred dozily, grinning like an idiot.

Sunstreaker just offlined his optics again and leant back on the medic's chest, handsome scowl still set in place.

The doorwinged mech stared at the scene before him in disbelief, before addressing the CMO.

"Do I _want_ to know what happened here?"

"No. You _don't_."

Ratched ground out, glaring at the SIC.

"Very well then. I haven't seen anything."

The black and white Datsun declared, leaving the room, trying to erase the image from his memory banks.

The medic's gaze softened a little, as he beheld his twin terrors, lying at his sides, heads on his chestplates. Uncharacteristically gently, he pet Sideswipes back and caressed Sunstreakers sensitive audio fins.

"I'm going to spank your afts for that."

He deadpanned, hoping no one else found out what had happened in his med. bay this night cycle. And hoping even more, that no one learned that he had enjoyed it so very much.

"You're welcome."

Sunstreaker yawned, getting comfortable, setting to recharge for a little longer, knowing that Prowl won't disturb them to call them for duty anytime soon.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot.<em>

_I just had to change the names of their interface equipment, because everytime I hear the word 'spike'_

_I have to think about the human boy from G1 that hung out at the Ark. And that just ruins the mood for me._

_I hope you don't mind all too much._


End file.
